


Nights are meant for Sharing

by oxiosa



Series: Brarg Week 2018 [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 17:06:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16791133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxiosa/pseuds/oxiosa
Summary: There had been something exhilarating about outwitting the most feared pirate in the skies. Of watching the quiet scorching anger burn in the man’s eyes as they got away, whole and alive and victorious. But now that they are past the adrenaline rush of escaping alive, the soreness of the day starts to sink in.





	Nights are meant for Sharing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclamer; the characters used in this work belong to the community Latin Hetalia and their respective creators. More info about them in the following link > www.latin-hetalia.livejournal.com
> 
> Argentina: Martín Hernández.  
> Bolivia: Julio Paz.  
> Brazil: Luciano Da Silva.  
> Chile: José Manuel González Rodríguez.  
> Peru: Miguel Prado.
> 
> A/N: This counts as a sequel to [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15810276), but you can skip it and still understand this one.

_A Albertina_ sails quietly through the dark night sky, the wide white moon as their only light and guide while millions of stars surrounding her keep them company.

Luciano stands by the wheel, tasting the night breeze tangling in his hair and playing with his clothes. It’s quiet and calm here, all by his own, and strangely enough, that is starting to make him feel rather upset. He can’t help to frown to himself, and try to push the feeling down. He’s used to being on his own - _was_ used to, anyways. He should be able to take some alone time without moping around.

Under the moonlight, he makes out a small frames swiftly descending through a close by sail rope. Luciano smiles, and watches little Tito jump to the floor only to run in his direction and climb up his clothes until he rests on his shoulder.

“Hello to you too, handsome boy,” he cooes at the weasel sniffing at his face.

Tito had slipped inside his ship at some port back when Luciano barely started sailing. It had been quite an inconvenience back then; Luciano had only noticed him days after leaving land, hadn’t scheduled to make port for many more weeks and wasn’t about to change plans just for some stowaway weasel. They had learnt to tolerate each other during those days, and eventually as time went by grew closer. Once they had touched back land, Luciano had expected him to leave, but Tito had decided to stick with him. It had been a surprising turn, but a welcomed one; Tito helped keep his ship vermin free, and most important kept him company.

Tito squeaks at him, and climbs all the way down to his jacket’s pocket to slip inside and make a little fur ball of himself with a tiny dramatic huff.

“It’s been a long day,” Luciano agrees and scratches Tito’s tiny head with a finger.

“Talking to yourself?”

Luciano raises his eyes, and meets Martín’s smiling face as he climbs the stairs up to the poop deck where Luciano has been brooding for the last half an hour.

“It helps me clear my mind,” Luciano shrugs it off - for some reason, admitting he had been chatting with Tito doesn’t seem any better than letting Martín think he had been talking to no one at all. He eyes back ahead, ignores Martín as he makes himself comfortable against the ship’s railing, and asks; “How’s Miguel?”

“He’s fine,” Martín answers. “Sebastián is already taking care of it. Kicked me out, actually.”

Luciano snorts. Sebastián doesn’t appreciate people fuzzing around him while he’s working. He must have enough already with Manuel and Julio hovering over Miguel like some mother hens.

They remain silent for a moment, surrounded for the familiar sound of tight ropes and squeaking wood as _Albertina_ quietly groans like today’s fight had taken tool over her as well.

“How are you?” Martín asks quietly.

The hesitant honesty in his voice makes Luciano startle, and raise his eyebrow high as he turns towards Martín.

“Me?” he mumbles in surprise.

“Well, yes,” Martín answers as casual as he can get, fiddling with a white cloth between his hands. “It’s my duty as Captain to make sure my crew is fine.”

“ _I’m_ Captain,” Luciano instantly bites back - not like the issue truly matter when no one in the ship called neither of them Captain except for Miguel, who happened adress the _both_ of them as such. He looks at the starry sky for a moment, trying to gather himself from the surprise of Martín's honest worry. “I’m good. A little sore, but aren’t we all?”

It had been a close call, enough that Luciano had been almost certain they wouldn’t make it out alive.

They have faced pirates before, but this had been the first time they had faced The Corsair _himself_ in person, and they had won.

The fight had been tough and no one had escaped unscathed; they had scratches and bruises all over, and Luciano had a split lip from a specially nasty punch in the face. Miguel had taken the worst of it, however; a broken leg. They had taken him below decks with the help of Julio and Manuel as the later scolded him with a fierce tongue but the worried tenderness in his eyes that betrayed him.

There had been something exhilarating about outwitting the most feared pirate in the skies. Of watching the quiet scorching anger burn in the man’s eyes as they got away, whole and alive and victorious. But now that they are past the adrenaline rush of escaping alive, the soreness of the day starts to sink in.

Luciano hesitates for another moment, chews on the question he wants to ask back at Martín.

“How are-What are you doing?”

He frowns at Martín, and Martín looks up at him from the bandage he is clumsing trying to apply to his hand.

“I was trying to get this wrap up,” he replies. He frowns to himself, and adds a little defensively; “It’s a bit hard doing it one-handed...”

“Come here,” Luciano orders without a second though as he purses his lips.

Martín blinks in surprise, but does as he is told. He takes one, two, three steps, until he is right by Luciano’s side, and hands the bandage over. He lets Luciano take his injured hand between his, and Luciano’s frown only deepens; the cut across Martín’s palm is bad.

“This needs stitches,” he says.

“It can wait,” Martín shrugs it off.

“It really _can’t._ ”

“Miguel needs Sebastián more than me right now,” Martín answers.

There’s a little defiant tone in his voice, a little warning. Luciano understands, but he can’t have Martín leave a wound unattended just for the sake of others.

“I can do it.”

Martín stares at him up and down, and Luciano is sure he’ll decline the offer. Much to his surprise, Martín lets out a sigh, and nods.

“Ok…” he relents.

Luciano swiftly ties a rope around one of the handles of the wheel to keep course straight, and together they leave the deck to make their way toward the Captain’s cabin.

Luciano has lived in this little cabin for four years, but hasn’t slept here since he picked Martín and his crew up. Martín had stormed into his life with Manuel and Miguel trailing after him, demanding service and offering in exchange nothing but the promise of future fortunes, and Luciano had offered his ship and his experience in exchange of a part of whatever they found in the way. Martín stealing Luciano’s cabin from him _hadn’t_ been part of the bargain, but Luciano tried to convinced himself he didn’t mind it much; sleeping below decks with Manuel and Miguel - and later on Sebastián, Daniel and Julio - hadn’t been that bad, and anyways he usually spent most of his days inside the Captain’s cabin arguing with Martín over maps and charts.

Luciano’s cabin looks pretty much the way he left it, full of all the trinkets and junk he’s gather all around the world from his many troubles. Martín doesn't really own much beyond a bag full of maps. It’s easy to forget that all what Martín has to his name are hunger for adventure and his clever words and pretty smiles to get him out - _and in_ \- trouble. But there’s something in the small dim room - the smell of cologne and _mate_ ? That one expensive suit hanging from a perch that clearly is not Luciano’s? The maps unrolled scattered on Luciano’s desk? The worn out journal scribbled all over lying by the bed? - that screams _Martín_ and has melted in like it had been meant to entwined with the essense of Luciano is this very room. It’s something that makes Luciano’s chest feel warm.

Luciano fetches for a leather pouch on a drawer from his desk, and pulls out some thread and a needle and comes back to Martín, who waits for him sitting on the bed he stole from Luciano. Luciano sits by his side, and sterilizes the needle carefully rotating it over candlelight.

“You’ve done this before?” Martín asks with something akin to distrust.

“Probably a thousand times,” Luciano snorts.

“On yourself?”

Luciano shrugs. He is - _was_ , he reminds himself - usually alone, except for Tito. _A Albertina_ is not that much of a big ship, he used to manage on his own - even if having a crew, as small and inexperience as this one is, definitely has its perks.

He’s grown used to taking care of himself, even if that meant sewing a wound close or replacing a dislocated limb.

“This is gonna hurt,” he warns.

Martín takes it fairly good. No sounds of protest escape his lips, even if when Luciano is finished he looks a little pale and there is a thin layer of sweat on his temple. Luciano reapplies the bandage, just to keep the wound safe while it’s still fresh, and his hand lingers over Martín’s. He has a hard time looking up.

He remembers the fight very clearly. Remembers Martín jumping into action, throwing himself in danger’s way without a second thought. Remembers the cold fear that had taken over his heart when he watched his get out of the way of a sharp sword _barely_ in time.

Luciano traces the bandage carefully. He is shocked when he feels Martín’s hand cupping his face, and gently bringing him close. Luciano looks up, and remains still holding his breath, as Martín carefully runs his thumb over the cut splitting Luciano’s upper lip. He follows the path of his finger with his eyes, and then his eyes meet Luciano’s wide dazzled gaze. It seems to take a moment from Martín’s brain to catch up, and Luciano can see the moment it does when Martín blinks his eyes wide upon.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to-!”

He starts to pull away, but Luciano is quick to take his wrist and ground him. They hold stares, and all it takes is Martín’s eyes to drop to Luciano’s lips for Luciano to lean forward and kiss him.

They lips connect in a careful gently touch. It’s not how Luciano imagined Martín would kiss him, not when Martín is all fire and energy. Martín sighs against his mouth, presses another kiss, and then he lets out a _yelp_ and pulls back like Luciano’s lips had burnt him.

Luciano blinks his eyes open in confusion. Martín is not looking at him; he is staring wide-eyed at Tito, who has decided this was the best moment to climb out of Luciano’s pocket and all the way to his head to peer down at them from a nest of Luciano’s dark curls.

With the startle gone and the moment ruined, Luciano and Martín share glances and feel their cheeks turn red.

“I-I should probably go check back on Miguel,” Martín clears his throat and blurts out.

“Yeah,” Luciano replies, fighting the impulse to hide his face between his hands. “Sure.”

Martín hurries to leave, but lingers by the door for a moment.

“Thank you,” he says, looking equally embarrassed and honestly grateful in turns. His blush deepens, and he adds; “For everything.”

He’s gone, before Luciano can even muster a reply.

Luciano sighs and can only stare at the door heartbroken like the _damn lovestruck fool_ he is. He childishly raises a hand to his mouth, chasing away the feeling of Martín’s lips on his, before he looks up and meets Tito’s blinking eyes.

“Thanks, man,” he grumbles tiredly. “That was real smooth from you.”

**Author's Note:**

> ☑ Brarg Week - Day 6: Steampunk.


End file.
